amareladanza: (093)
Harry Amando Matheson ([personal profile] amareladanza) wrote in [community profile] muserevival2017-05-13 12:44 am

147.2. Quote

"You have to fight through some bad days to earn the best days of your life." - Unknown

There was never a time in Harry's career as a dancer did he want to quit, but all week, he wanted to give up. Rehearsal after rehearsal, class after class. Finals were upon then. Which was one thing in his busy schedule. He hadn't been remembering to eat, but lost his appetite anyway. On top of that, he had another lead in a production that he had been working so hard on that he had no time left for anything else. He went from class during the day to rehearsing during the evenings, and would come home and go straight to bed. He hadn't even remembered to shower some days.

Then he stopped being able to sleep, because all the stress and anxiety seemed to build up as soon as he got into bed. At every juncture, he began to doubt himself. He doubted his skills. He doubted his stamina. He doubted his strength. He doubted his talent. Outwardly, he looked like any other hardworking dancer shooting for the top in his career. That's where he wanted to be. It was his dream to be a Principal Ballet Dancer one day. He didn't even care where. He knew if he didn't put the hard yards in now, he would never get there because it was so fucking competitive. What ballet trainee didn't want that? He had come further than a lot already, so he couldn't stumble at this point. He had been given opportunities other people dreamed of, and if he didn't succeed, he would let everyone down. Everyone that believed in him. But what if he was one big fat fucking farce? What if he really wasn't cut out for this at all?

That afternoon, his teacher was riding him particularly hard. His teacher who also happened to be his brother's fiancé, but that had never been an issue before. Cheyne had been Harry's idol before Nick met him. That hadn't changed. Cheyne never gave him special treatment. He didn't go easy on him because of the link. He trained him as hard as all his students, and that was what Harry wanted. Cheyne had achieved all the things Harry wanted, so he looked up to him. He trusted him to push him.

It was a bad day. A really bad day. Harry was exhausted. He had been exhausted as long as he could remember now. It had progressively gotten worse the more he worked himself up and the more the doubts ate away at his insides like a flesh-eating virus that had complete control over him. He didn't see it coming. Right in the middle of a private lesson, where he was going so hard and fast, he went into a zone where he stopped thinking, stopped feeling... stopped doing anything but dance. He pushed himself to the brink, and he snapped.

Something just bottomed out within him. He had been making mistakes the entire lesson, and Cheyne was getting frustrated that he was fucking up things Harry knew second nature. Maybe there was a sign when Harry snapped back at Cheyne about halfway through. He was forgetting the routine and completely blanking out. All the false starts, he kept fucking up at the same part of the routine. It happened again and he fell, twisting his ankle. Not bad, but it was the straw that broke the camels back. Like always, Cheyne immediately checked him on. He wasn't yelling, but he was stern.

Harry completely lost his shit. It didn't last long, but perhaps enough to cause damage to everything he had already achieved. The outburst could get him suspended. It could even get him expelled. He wouldn't even remember all the shit he started screaming at Cheyne, but he would remember shoving him and calling him a Nazi. It didn't last long. He lost his steam quickly and ended up collapsing in the middle of the dance studio, sobbing. As soon as the broke, he realised how much pain he was in. His feet were aching so much they felt like they were on fire. His bones were burning with agony and his muscles felt like they were torn up.

He was on his knees, face buried in his hands when the exhaustion finally won out. He had given it everything he had, and there wasn't an ounce of strength left in him to go on.

harry matheson
- original character -